


Sins of the Father

by Sheselectric



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Backstory, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Minor Canonical Character(s), Pregnancy, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Sex, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-27 16:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20763515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheselectric/pseuds/Sheselectric
Summary: Near his death, Arthur tells Rain Falls of the child he once had. This is an attempt at bringing this brief mention to life.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought that Arthur's story deserved more attention, especially since it had an immense effect on his future self. I tried to follow the general timeline that the game gave us, but since there's very little information on this subject overall, a lot of what's happening, is my own imagination filling in the blanks. 
> 
> The work is tagged as Arthur/OC, because despite the fact that Eliza is a canonical character, there's almost no information about her. I had to create her personality from scratch, so I decided to tag her as an OC.

Arthur didn’t know the town well, but he knew there’d be a saloon waiting for him as it did in every town he visited. 

He dismounted his horse, landing in the dust that quickly settled on his clothes, and looked at the small, wooden building before walking in. The floor creaked under his feet, alerting the locals of a foreign presence. Arthur tipped his hat in their direction and walked towards the bar.

He leaned over and ordered a beer, which he drank in two long gulps. As the liquid settled in his stomach, he asked for another one, toying with the bottle before taking a sip.

“New in town?” The bartender was eyeing him curiously.

Arthur was quiet for a few seconds, taking another sip before answering.

“You could say that,” he answered in a thick accent.

The same answer for every bartender in every saloon he’d ever visited. Funnily enough, it was never a lie either. Arthur’s never really had a place he could call his own, remaining a stranger in countless little towns.

There were no more questions, but they were sure to come if he stayed by the bar too long, so he ordered another beer and sat by the table. He leaned in the chair, quietly observing local folks, trying to get a feel for the place. With how the gang’s situation was going, he was sure they’d be visiting a lot.

His eyes shifted from head to head, stopping only once. At the opposite end of the room, squished between a piano and an empty table, stood a young woman. Her clothes told him that she was not a lady of the evening. But not a regular visitor either, as she gently nodded her head and smiled at the men passing her by.

Arthur figured she was simply a hand, probably cleaning the tables, and maybe serving food if someone was so brave. His suspicions were confirmed when he put his empty bottle down, and she approached him before he could get up to get another one.

“Another one, sir?”

She had a gentle voice that reminded him of someone he used to know, and he raised his head to look at her. She was pleasant to look at, with a healthy amount of color to her face, and sparkly eyes that focused on his as he answered.

“Yes,” he said and then followed with a quick _thank you_ as she was turning around.

She came back moments after, setting an open bottle in front of him. Looks from the other guests made him aware that such treatment was not a regular occurrence. He laughed quietly under his nose, remembering that nothing was ever this pleasant or easy, especially not attention from a handsome woman.

“What’s the point in all this?” Arthur asked, searching her eyes.

“Nothing,” she answered in a firm voice. “I thought you looked like you needed another one”.

He was surprised by how easily she read him. Arthur hoped he didn’t offend her with his insensitive question. Not something he normally paid attention to and he knew it wasn’t a good sign.

“Well, you ain’t wrong,” he answered, looking at his hands.

She laughed quietly and he was once again drawn to her voice.

“I’m Eliza,” she said as if introducing herself was the most normal course of action under those circumstances.

The corner of his lip raised despite his best efforts.

“Arthur,” he said.

“I hope I’ll be seeing you around, Arthur,” she said before turning around and walking away.

~

As he was riding back to the camp, warm air hitting his face and expanse of glistening stars above him, he thought of Mary. It’s been quite some time since he last saw her, and he did his best to avoid things that would trigger the memories.

Yet, there she was, smiling and twirling her hair as she leaned in to look at him. He could almost hear her laugh. He shook his head, looking around to ward the ghosts away, but he knew there was a reason for all this.

A pleasant reason. A woman so kind, yet so confident. Eliza reminded him of Mary, that's why the latter suddenly made herself known again.

He arrived at the camp, deep in thoughts about things other than women, and nodded his head at John while dismounting the horse.

“How is he?" He asked while walking through the clearing and down a beaten path leading to Hosea’s tent.

“I don’t know. Not worse I guess,” John shrugged.

Their last robbery rattled them all good; the reason for arrival in the new town and Hosea’s bed rest. Arthur shooed John away as he stepped inside the tent. Dutch was sitting in the corner, book in his hand as always, rattling the pages when he saw Arthur.

“Son,” he said quietly, “where have you been?”

“In town,” Arthur took a slow look at Hosea’s face, “I figured one of us had to check the place”.

Dutch was quiet for a moment, taking a look at Hosea himself before turning in Arthur’s direction.

“Is that so?” His tone was suspicious, but he eased off when Arthur didn’t answer. “Take John when you go hunting tomorrow. I have some business to take care of”.

Arthur nodded his head quietly.

“Will he get better?”

Dutch laughed quietly.

“Hosea? Of course he will. He’s seen way worse than this”.

This satisfied Arthur. Dutch was always right, after all. He slowly left Hosea’s side and stepped out into the night.

~

It was days later when he visited the saloon again. Eliza didn’t notice him at first, focused on a conversation with some woman he hadn’t met. It was only when he leaned on the bar to order a beer, searching his pockets for change, when he felt a tap on a shoulder.

She was right behind him, smiling as if she’d seen an old friend. Arthur couldn’t help but smile back, his eyes darting to the floor when he realized how stupid he must’ve looked with a grin like that. But she didn’t mind.

“I hoped you’d come back,” she said softly and he suddenly felt awkward, clearing his throat as he reached for the beer.

Arthur was never good with women. “Many travelers in these parts?” He rerouted the conversation, hoping to avoid making a fool of himself.

“Some. Not many like you though,” she was now leaning on the bar too, searching his eyes.

The bottle stopped midway to his mouth.

“Like me?”

He must’ve sounded hilarious, because she laughed quietly, shaking her head. Arthur was going to say something to save the situation when she was called by one of the patrons.

He finished his beer and asked for another one, getting lost in his thoughts until he heard a loud _no_. He turned around, seizing the room, only to see Eliza arguing with some drunkard. He put the bottle down with a thud.

“Hey,” he said firmly, approaching the man, “why won’t you leave the lady alone”.

The man was clearly not in the mood for a pleasant conversation as he turned around and slurred:

“Or what?”

It was all Arthur needed as he took a swing, his fist meeting the man’s jaw with a crunch. And then, as it always happened when you started a fight inside a saloon, others joined in. In seconds, the room was tight with shouting men, some pulling at Arthur, others at the drunkard, and the rest beating each other.

He took a blow to the side of his face, stumbling back into the table. The bottles started falling and breaking under his feet, and that was when the owner ran downstairs, ending the fight with an angry scream. In seconds, it was as if nothing ever happened. And then Eliza took his hand and dragged him outside.

At first, he was sure she was kicking him out, but as she forced him to sit on the bench, muttering something under her nose, he changed his mind.

She gently ran her fingers on his cheek, fingers glistening with blood as she took a step back. He didn’t even realize the blow wounded him.

When Eliza walked back inside, Arthur was left with a sad realization. He was not a civilized man. It didn’t bother him normally. But as he looked back on her disappointed expression, he couldn’t help, but feel ashamed.

That was why he refused when she attempted to clean the wound.

“Don’t,” he said firmly, turning his face away.

Eliza gave him a stern look.

“Come on,” she said, placing one of her hands on his good cheek.

It was warm and soft.

“I’m fine,” he said.

This time she tugged at his shirt, pulling his face closer.

“Stop behaving like a little boy,” she said and he finally gave in.

It was not worth it to argue with a woman that’s set her mind on something.

She gently dabbed on the wound, cleaning the dried blood. Arthur closed his eyes. She smelled nice, fresh, even though she must’ve spent a whole day in that little saloon. He then tried to remember the last time he had a bath and when he couldn’t remember, he felt embarrassed having her so close.

Eliza didn’t seem to mind though as she leaned in closer, examining the wound. “You’ll live,” she said with a smile before sitting next to him. The night at the saloon was far from over, but for Arthur, it already felt quiet and peaceful.

“Thank you,” he said as she rested her head on the wall with closed eyes.

She smiled.

“You like getting into trouble, don’t you?”

Arthur pondered the question for a few seconds. This woman that he saw but two times in his life has shown him kindness and understanding. Least he owed her was some honesty... If only to spare her from wasting her time on a man like him.

“I don’t, but it happens. I’m not a good man, Eliza,” he said firmly before leaning into the bench and lighting a cigarette.

She opened her eyes and looked at him.

“Running with a gang, eh?”

Arthur inhaled quickly, _too quickly_, and coughed as she laughed.

“Why’d you say that?”

He started to wonder if she saw a poster somewhere; if her intuition was that good; or if he was simply doing a bad enough job at blending in. Whatever it was, she couldn’t have been in her right mind if she knew that and still approached him.

“I know the type. They come and go, thinking they’re so clever,” she winked. “But I don’t judge. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do”.

He couldn’t help, but smile. Maybe she reminded him of Mary at first, but she sure was nothing like her.

~

Arthur tried to be in town once a week. Twice if Dutch didn’t come up with plans for some petty theft. At first, he was only visiting the saloon, but if he was being honest with himself, it wasn’t the drinking that had him coming back. With time, he’d start visiting during the day, taking Eliza up on her offers to go for a walk or help with shopping.

There was no underlying motive in his actions. No plan to push anything further. He didn’t want to ruin their time together with his unwanted attentions.

One afternoon he took her for a ride. She laughed as they rode through the hills, wind smacking their faces. Her genuine enjoyment of such simple things had Arthur in a good mood. He walked her home after, giving into her teasing demeanor as she had him twirl her around, and then attempted to twirl him back.

When they arrived at her door, Eliza unexpectedly placed a small kiss on his cheek. She turned redder than usual waiting for his reaction. Maybe he was foolish to entertain that, or maybe enamored just enough despite what he was telling himself, but he leaned in and allowed her to kiss his other cheek. And when she stumbled back, eyes shining, he pulled her closer and placed a hasty kiss on her lips.

He was a fool. But a happy one.

~

As all foolish endeavors, that one also came to pass. Hosea was slowly regaining his strength, to everyone’s great relief. But along with that came Dutch, pushing them to leave; promising that the next place would bring them the riches they’d only dreamt of.

So, Arthur visited Eliza last night before traveling onwards. “I’ll come visit,” he said while finishing his meal. She was cleaning the table, offering him a small smile as he spoke. “I mean it,” he put his hand on hers, “I ain’t saying it’ll be as often, but I’ll come visit”.

She lifted her hand before turning around and walking to the counter. “I trust you, Arthur,” she said assuredly, “but I don’t trust the life out there”. She was quiet for a few seconds. “It’s trouble and bad people, and…,” she turned around to look at him and there was no familiar glimmer in her eyes. “I want to believe you’ll come back, but if not… maybe this night should be just for us”. 

He didn’t know what she meant, as always when she wasn’t straight-up with him.

“I’m here,” he said flatly and the corners of her lips curled up.

Eliza approached him, putting one of her hands on his arm.

“I didn’t mean _that_,” she said before leaning in and placing a small kiss on his cheek.

He inhaled slowly, allowing her to trace kisses down his jaw. It was only when she attempted to kiss him on the lips when he finally understood, quickly turning away from her. His face was burning as he looked down on his lap.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” he said.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want her. It was that she’d be the first woman to share both his bed and feelings. And if he truly didn’t come back, the only thing left would be a haunting memory of a special thing that they lost.

“Look at me,” she said and he looked up, meeting her warm gaze. “If you come back, you’ll have something to think of while we’re apart. If you don’t… I’ll have this night to remember”.

As much as he wanted to save both of them any more heartache, her words resonated with him. He stood up slowly, putting his hands on her waist.

“All right,” he said before kissing her.

At first, it was gentle and sweet. Just a brush of his lips on hers. But when she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing into him, the kiss lost its innocence. In seconds, he had her against the table, tongue on the edge of her mouth.

It was overwhelming to taste her; to have her so close and intimate. He wasn’t led by his brain, but his emotions, as he held her tightly, allowing himself to slide his mouth down her neck. Her quickened breathing was enough fuel to keep going; to slide slower and peck on her arm.

“Arthur,” she managed to rasp out and he stopped, lifting his head to look at her. “Not here”.

Eliza brushed past him, turning her head to make sure he was following. He was, every little step, but it was she who made the first move as they stood by her bed.

She pulled him into another hasty kiss, rubbing her face on his stumble, pressing her hands into his chest. His heart was pounding when she slid the jacket down his arms. Then, she reached for his shirt and he was itching to touch her as her fingers worked on the buttons, finally baring him to the coldness of her house.

It was then when he’d had enough. He caught her wrist, turning her around in one swift movement. She gasped when he squeezed her waist before working on her dress. He started to kiss the back of her neck and then down the patches of skin that showed up as he unbuttoned it. Arthur was halfway through with it, lips moving down her spine when she moaned quietly and he was done for, forcing his fingers to work faster.

As the dress slid down her body, leaving her only in flimsy undergarments, he turned her around again. She stood there, looking at him innocently as redness rose on her chest and neck, and he cursed himself in his head. He was a fool – a goddamned fool to go along with this. The image in front of him would be etched into his mind forever, taunting him during the long, cold nights.

Arthur sat on the bed, pulling her on his lap before he’d convince himself that it’d be better to stop right there. But there was no stopping, as she eagerly pulled him into a kiss.

This time, there were no breaks, and no tricks – only an undiluted desire as he cradled her in his arms. It was natural, the way his hands traveled down her body and under her undergarments, making her gasp when he removed them.

Then, he pushed her to lie down. Harder than he’d wanted. He was too aroused, feeling it in his groins as he stood up to remove his pants and shoes. When he kneeled between her legs, her skin so soft under his harsh hands, Eliza wrapped her thighs around him. He propped forward, resting his arms on both sides of her head.

The way she was looking at him – it was too intense to stop himself any longer. He pressed in, hiding his face in the crook of her neck, allowing her to adjust. And then, he started moving. Slowly at first, controlling his own desire as he watched her from under half-closed eyes.

That wasn’t cutting it for Eliza. She caught his face in her shaky hands, forcing him to hold her gaze as they moved in unison. Being so intimate should’ve made him embarrassed, but it had the opposite effect.

Arthur was weirdly enthralled, thrusting into her harder, and watching her expression change. She wasn’t so confident anymore, barely able to keep her eyes open. Finally, she gave up, wrapping her arms around his back and allowing him to take control.

As he moved with intent, getting lost in his own pleasure, she whispered into his ear. At first, he thought he’d gone mad hearing what he heard. But as she repeated the words over and over again; he was sure he heard her right.

Arthur didn’t know how to answer that, but he knew how to react. It was an instinct more than anything, pushing him to kiss her eagerly as he kept on moving above her. She started to tremble, pulling him closer. As she closed around him with a loud gasp, he pushed for his own release, picking up the pace until they were both spent.

After, he turned on his back, eyes focused on the ceiling. Eliza placed a small kiss on his cheek -- an act that made him blush. She then turned towards the wall, and it was but minutes before she fell asleep. Arthur listened to her slow, rhythmic breathing. For some time, it made him feel peaceful. As he tried to fall asleep though, a certain kind of sadness washed over him, making him toss and turn as he battled with his thoughts.

For a few moments, he entertained the idea of leaving the gang. He saw those images of him and Eliza having a life together. A family. Of him taking a respectful job and dying of old age. But as he thought of his fathers and John, he became painfully aware that it’d never happen. He could never leave them. Not even for the woman that slept soundly next to him. 


	2. Part 2

Arthur walked slowly through the town. It all felt familiar – the breeze, the sounds; even the saloon appeared as if nothing had changed in those months he was gone. But as he walked through its door, eyes automatically fixated on where she should stand, there was nothing, but an empty spot.

Maybe it was foolish of him to expect things would remain unchanged as if time wouldn’t touch that little town. After all, he was gone longer than initially planned.

“Are you ordering, mister?” The bartender called on him.

It wasn’t the same man he’d seen months ago, but it could be spun in Arthur’s favor.

“I ain’t,” he said while approaching the bar, “but you can do me a favor, kid”. Arthur seized the saloon once again, before turning to the bartender. “There was a woman working here. Eliza was her name. I wanna know where she is”.

“Oh,” the man started cleaning the glass, “she quit ‘bout two –- three weeks back. She’s still in town though… Or so I heard. Haven’t seen her myself”.

The news wasn’t what Arthur was expecting. Had she fallen ill? He saw no other explanation for an unmarried woman to stop working.

He left the saloon, composing himself as he walked through the town. If she indeed was sick, he hoped he made it in time to see her conscious. The time between a knock on her door and the time they opened seemed like the longest wait he’d ever experienced.

To his surprise, Eliza was the one welcoming him. A smile crossed her features, eyes welling with tears. She threw her arms around his neck.

“Arthur,” she sounded relieved, “you came back”.

He held her at arm’s length, smiling as he looked at her. While it could still be that she was sick, only not gravely so, her face indicated something different. Her skin seemed fresh, cheeks red as if someone just pinched them. The eyes didn’t lose their glimmer.

When she invited him inside and he could take a better look as she walked; he assessed that she seemed rounder than the last time he saw her. All in all, she was a picture of health. She might have looked even better than he remembered her.

As he pondered on that, making himself comfortable in the kitchen chair, anxiety started raising in the pit of his stomach. If she was healthy yet unable to work…

“I didn’t know if you’d be back, but now that you’re here,” she turned to the side, hands ironing over the dress, “there is something you should know”. As her hands finally rested, he could see an undeniable roundness of her stomach.

It was as if time stopped for a few seconds. Arthur was looking at her, trying to convince himself that he was just seeing things.

Eliza shook her head, taking in his expression. “Relax,” she said while approaching him, “we -- I didn’t know if you’d be back. I don’t expect anything from you, Arthur. I just wanted you to know”.

His shock was replaced with anger as he stood up all too quickly, the chair falling to the floor.

“I ain’t that kind of man,” he gritted through his teeth. “I’ll help you,” he said, trying to calm himself down. “I just… I just need to think”.

He left without another look in her direction, stumbling and sweating as he made it to his horse.

~

It took him days to come to the terms with the situation. He recalled how he’d imagined being a father all those years ago. Arthur was younger and crazily in love; it seemed appropriate at the time to at least _consider_ the possibility. But life happened as always – a painful reminder that the gang was no place for a kid.

It’s always been like that and it wouldn’t change now that Eliza was expecting. That much he knew. At the same time, when the shock finally wore off, he couldn’t help, but feel weirdly hopeful.

Life would never be different for him, not that he wanted it any other way, but he could make it so his child grew up away from danger. With a loving mother. A father who cares. Maybe with enough money to not just get by, but to actually live.

It was that small glimmer of hope that caught John’s attention while they were sitting by the fire on a one cold night.

“Not so moody anymore, eh Arthur?”

Normally he’d tell him off, but a slow acceptance of his new role put him in a good mood. He remained quiet until Hosea joined them by the fire.

“I need to tell y’all something,” Arthur said, unsure of how he should present the news. Deep down, he hoped others would be happy for him, even if at first he had trouble with accepting the information himself.

“We’re listening,” Hosea offered him a small smile.

Arthur was toying with the beer bottle in his hands.

“Eliza is… with-child”.

John frowned.

“Eliza? That waitress you were running with?”

“One and the same,” Arthur mumbled under his nose before taking a sip of his beer.

“That’s good news,” Hosea was warming his hands over the fire, “I think you need something like that in your life”.

“Like what?” John was laughing. “A woman always breathing on your neck? Do you need to marry her now or something?”

Hosea shook his head before leaning into the chair.

“Ah, leave it, John,” he scolded jokingly, “be happy for him. At least one of you will learn a real responsibility”. But then he looked at Arthur with something more genuine in his eyes. “Your heart’s in the right place, boy. You’ll be a good father”.

The words comforted Arthur. So much so, he remained by the fire as Hosea and John went to rest. He was just thinking -- allowing himself to feel happy about the whole thing.

“Did I hear that right?” Arthur turned his head to see Dutch standing in front of his tent. “You’re going to be a father?”

“Dutch,” Arthur stood up, “I thought you were asleep. I was gonna tell you tomorrow”.

Dutch slowly closed the distance between them.

“I’m happy for you, son,” he said before pulling Arthur into a hug. He felt relieved. Telling that to Dutch seemed like the hardest thing, for whatever reason. “So,” Dutch let him go, “are you working on some arrangements for her?”

“Yeah, well,” Arthur scratched the back of his neck, “I’m gonna travel her way. I need to figure this out”.

Dutch seemed deep in thought.

“We’ll move her somewhere closer. We are not going back there, Arthur,” he looked somewhere in the distance, “and the gang is no place for women and kids”.

With that, he returned to his tent, leaving Arthur to wonder why Dutch, out of all people, wanted to protect the interest that wasn’t his own.

~

It’d taken Arthur a whole day to arrive back in town. He was tired and hungry, but ultimately, he was happy. Happy to see Eliza again -- this time to celebrate her state. She welcomed him with an understanding look. The one that made a man embarrassed as he looked back on his past behavior.

“Eliza, I…” he started as she was preparing food for him, “I was acting like a damn fool. I’m not good with these things”. She remained quiet, so he continued, trying to make amends. “But I promise, I’ll take care of you. Of our… child,” the word gave him a warm feeling; one that he was still afraid to explore.

She set a steaming stew in front of him and he looked up to see her gentle smile.

“I know you will,” she said. He caught her hand and pulled her closer, before placing a small kiss on her lips. “Now,” she said as redness spread down her neck, “eat up”.

After he was finished, he brought up the subject of moving.

“I’m not joining your gang,” she said in a serious tone.

Her hard refusal made him laugh. She was a smart woman. 

“Didn’t mean that,” he said before leaning into his chair. “But we’re moving west. I want you two to live somewhere closer”.

Eliza stopped whatever she was doing and turned around to face him.

“And how would we go about that?”

Her expression was somewhere between curious and pleased, and the corners of his lips curled.

“I’ll have to leave for some time,” he said. She nodded her head with understanding, but he could see how her eyes saddened. “I ain’t found the place yet, but I’ll come get you as soon as I do”.

Eliza stepped from foot to foot, as if unsure if she should say what came next.

“Do you need money? I have some to spare”.

For a moment, Arthur felt hurt by the implication. But then he remembered that it was Eliza – a woman who never looked down on him because of who he was. She genuinely wanted to help.

“No,” he answered calmly, “I’ll take care of that”. She was observing his face, clearly deciding if he meant that or not. He sighed. “All right, come here,” he pulled her on his lap with ease. Eliza laughed as he put his arm around her, pulling her closer.

She pressed a kiss into his temple, a warm smile lighting up her face as he looked at her. She cared for him –- it was clear as day. At that moment, he was willing to do anything if it only meant making her happy.

~

It took more time than he expected, but at last, he found a proper place. The cottage was situated ways off the most traveled routes, but close enough to the civilization to allow Eliza to remain independent. The neighboring house, or rather the closest inhabited house, was that of an older couple. Arthur hoped that she’d make an acquaintance -- he assumed that she’d need another woman’s help during childbirth.

Eliza seemed to read his mind, introducing herself almost as soon as she arrived. Then, she took onto unpacking and decorating the place. Arthur did not understand the need for curtains and rugs and other womanly things, but he offered a helping hand nevertheless. And when they finally finished, plopping in front of the fireplace as the sun finally set, he had to admit that the place did feel like _home_.

“It looks nice,” he said honestly and she smiled in return.

She moved closer, putting her hand on his. “Thank you, Arthur,” she said and leaned in to kiss his cheek. He cleared his throat as she reverted to her old position, sinking into the seat. Her hands seemed to aimlessly travel on her stomach.

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, watching the flames dance in the fireplace.

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” Normally, he wouldn’t inquire, especially in such a private matter, but he was curious if women could tell.

Eliza pondered the question for a few seconds before letting out a small laugh. She shrugged.

“I honestly don’t know,” she looked down, “I used to think –- Oh”!

She shifted in her seat, putting one hand protectively around her stomach. Arthur froze in his seat, completely lost on what was happening. Heart was pounding in his chest as he ran over possible, tragic scenarios.

“Are you all right?” He managed to stutter.

She didn’t answer and instead reached for his hand, putting it on her stomach.

“Can you feel it?” She asked as he attempted to collect himself.

He had no damn idea what was happening, searching her eyes for answers when he felt it. Something moved under her skin, pressing into the palm of his hand. The expression on his face must have been priceless because she laughed, shaking her head. “He’s changing position,” she told him and put her hand on his.

He didn’t know babies did that, especially in a manner that could be felt. It was both terrifying and fascinating. The longer his hand rested there, the more comfortable he became, especially after seeing Eliza’s smile. As he felt another movement, he could swear his heart fluttered in his chest.

It was something he couldn’t describe -- a bond between him, Eliza, and their unborn child. The intimacy of it all overwhelmed him, forcing him to take his hand away as he looked down on his shoes. Eliza gently rubbed his shoulder.

“It’s special, isn’t it?”

“It sure is,” he said before lifting his head.

“Do you want to try again?”

Arthur thought that he knew what he was getting into. She was with-child and it would change things. But it was only when he touched her stomach that he realized how real the whole situation was, and how strong the emotions accompanying it.

His hand was still curled on his lap, as he was thinking if he should touch her again. He could have refused, lie his way out of it to avoid getting this involved. Eventually though, as he looked back on his life up until that point, he decided that maybe he deserved to be this close to someone, even if it meant eventual disappointment down the line.

Eliza’s smile as he put his hand back on her stomach, made him believe that it was the right call.

~

Arthur stayed with her that night and the night after. And as he was finally preparing to leave, a feeling he couldn’t quite place forced him to stay some more. Arthur didn’t understand how and why, but he fit into this new life.

He used to tell himself that domesticity was not for him; that civilization, however understood, was not a place for an outlaw. But as days passed and he only grew closer to Eliza, he realized that their situation made him long for something he never had. 

It was as if a family was something he was meant to have after all. But it was the same thought that made him feel guilty about leaving Dutch and Hosea for so long. He knew that they could take care of themselves, but he also knew that he was as responsible for people he saw as his parents, as he was to being a parent himself.

That same day he said his goodbyes to Eliza, leaving her with enough money to last until he came back. He arrived at the camp hours later, guilt building in the pit of his stomach as he watched the familiar faces.

“So, you decided to show up after all,” John was the first to greet him, a sour note in his voice.

Hosea offered more comfort when he patted his back and asked about Eliza’s wellbeing.

“I’m glad she’s doing well,” he said upon hearing an answer. “We missed you, Arthur”.

At last, he was faced with Dutch.

“Son, I’m glad to see you’ve returned,” he said while pulling Arthur into a firm hug. “How is she?”

While his expression was marked by an inviting smile, the tone of his voice spoke of different sentiments. It was overly curious -- preying even. Arthur cleared his throat before speaking.

“She’s all right. I think she’s… due soon”.

Dutch raised his eyebrow slightly before erupting into a laugh.

“That’s great… That’s truly great,” he said as he nodded at Arthur to follow him. “We should drink to that,” he said as they entered his tent.

He quickly reached for the whiskey bottle, pouring two glasses and handing one to Arthur. They took first sips in silence. “You know,” Dutch spoke, “women have that peculiar skill of homemaking.

"I always found it interesting how we find a common language with them. Us, men, not used to the civilized life. Always longing for the wilderness -- looking for ways to escape from domesticity,” he was now looking straight at Arthur as if trying to seize his reaction. “Yet so many of us settle... Agree to that way of living. Out of comfort of boredom, I can never tell”.

“I’m not sure I follow, Dutch,” Arthur said as he looked to the bottom of his glass.

Dutch poured him another one.

“What I try to say Arthur is that’s not a life for you. Believe me, I’ve been there. Hosea’s been there,” he sipped on whiskey before continuing his speech. “In the end, we’re both here – where we belong. Where you belong, son”.

And Arthur did understand him then. Dutch spoke to his sense of responsibility for the gang -– to the family that molded him.

“You must always support your child,” he continued, “and his mother; and I promise you – we’ll help in any way we can. But you’re needed here more than anywhere else”.

As Arthur stumbled out of the tent, he felt that there was truth to Dutch’s words. And as previous years proved, he was rarely ever wrong about things. But as Arthur lied on his cot, trying to accept the fact that he was not the kind of man to live a family life, he couldn’t help but look back on the time spent with Eliza and how right it felt.

~

He visited her nearly two weeks later. To his relief, she was still with-child, although from what she told him, the birth would come any day. And she was right. It came on the third one of his stay. The first thing that he saw was a puddle forming under her feet; another was her clutching her stomach as she moaned in pain.

Arthur was usually a collected man -- someone to count on in the moment of need. But as the birth of his first child unraveled, he couldn’t move a limb. It was Eliza who forced him to act.

“Help me to bed,” she said as the apparent pain stopped. He rested a shaking hand on her back, guiding her toward the room. He offered her a quiet _you’re all right_ as he helped her to lie down, before sprinting out the door and to her neighbor.

She followed him without a word but smiled reassuringly as they walked back into the house. One look at Eliza and she knew exactly what to do.

“Boil water. _A lot_ of it,” she ordered.

He had no idea what for, but he did as he was told, filling the pot to the brim and setting it on the fire. As it stood boiling, he reached for a cigarette. He was calmer, at least compared to a few minutes earlier, but his hands were still shaking as he sat down to smoke.

Then, he brought the pot to the bedroom.

“Good,” the neighbor said as she worked on Eliza’s dress, “rags?”

Arthur had no idea where anything was in the house and he felt embarrassed as he got to looking. He should have been spending more time there.

“Next to the wardrobe, last drawer,” Eliza said weakly.

His hand brushed on hers as he handed them over and he smiled reassuringly.

“All right, mister,” the lady looked at him, “it’s time for you to leave”.

For some reason, Arthur wished he could stay to support Eliza, but he knew that birth was no man’s business. Well, maybe doctor’s, but he sure as hell wasn’t one. He looked at her one last time before walking out.

Outside, time seemed to pass in a different manner. He could hear gasps, firmly spoken words, and eventual screams, but he had no way to tell when the baby would come. All he knew was that he was smoking a cigarette after cigarette, and walking around the house until the evening fell.

Finally, the neighbor walked out. He stood up all too quickly, looking at her with a puzzled expression. She was quiet for a second too long, maybe wanting to build the excitement, or maybe to torment him, but at last, she smiled.

“You can go in now,” she said.

His legs weakened at the words, but he thanked her with a quick nod before forcing himself to walk. He opened the door slowly, unsure of what state Eliza would be in.

But when he finally entered the room, he could see her smiling blissfully as she looked at the small bundle in her arms.

“You can come closer,” she whispered and Arthur took a few steps forward. His heart was thumping in his chest as he stood by the bed, eyes fixated on the baby in her arms. “It’s a boy,” she said looking up, and the beating stopped for a few seconds until it started again, ten times harder this time.

“A boy?”

A feeling of happiness overwhelmed him.

“Here,” Eliza said, trying to lift herself off the pillows, “hold him”.

Arthur's eyes were jumping from her face to hands as he stressed over taking the child in his arms. He was barely trusted by Dutch with his delicate cargo, how could he possibly handle a baby? But he had to. It was his firstborn son after all. 

He slowly reached for him, guided by Eliza. And then he pulled him closer to his chest, looking at the boy’s little face. It was then when a feeling struck him; so pure that he had troubles wrapping his head around it. A gentle smile crossed his features as he looked into the kid’s eyes.

“Have you thought of names?” Eliza asked.

He hadn’t. Not once. But as he looked at his son, he knew exactly what his name was.

“Isaac,” he said and she smiled at the sound.


	3. Part 3

Seasons. It was what his life turned into. Every smart plan, every robbery, and every travel were marked by the thought that once the weather shifted, he’d be back to see Eliza and Isaac. As he rode through the snowy paths, impatient to see his family, he felt a sting of sadness that he’d have to leave as soon as he arrived.

And as always, she welcomed him with open arms. She never complained nor preyed; never let him knew that his actions saddened her. He knew that she accepted what she’d once gotten herself into, but it never made it easier. Until he saw his son at least.

At first, he’d be cradled in her arms as she welcomed him home. With time, he’d be sleeping in his own bed, shifting slightly as Arthur came in and caressed his hair. That particular time, he woke up –- or maybe he was never asleep at all, expecting his father to visit soon.

“Pa,” he whispered as Arthur sat on the edge of the bed.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“I waited for you”.

Arthur didn’t know whether he should feel touched or heart-broken. For his own son to be losing sleep over the prospect of his father’s coming. He swallowed before speaking.

“I ain’t worth losing sleep over,” he said with a pretend-roughness in his voice.

Isaac laughed quietly before sliding out of the covers. He quickly closed the distance between them, hugging into Arthur’s side. Arthur froze for a second, surprised by the display of affection, but soon wrapped an arm around him, smiling under his nose.

They sat like this for a minute or two. Despite everything, the kid loved him, and Arthur couldn’t help by wonder how things worked sometimes.

“Will you stay for long?” Isaac’s words broke the silence.

“We’ll see,” he answered as heart sunk into his chest. “Now,” he loosened his grip, “sleep”.

Isaac slid under the covers, but as soon as his head hit the pillow, he spoke again.

“Pa, will you tell me a story?”

“A story?” Arthur knew no stories, or rather no stories suitable for kids. He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. “Sure, I’ll tell you a story,” he said finally to his son’s visible excitement. And as he started talking, he could see Eliza resting on the doorframe, smiling at him.

~

For the next few days, they’d enjoy the icy weather. Sometimes they’d play in the snow. Others, Arthur would take Isaac on the horse and ride around the forest. They’d talk about great many things, feeding into his son’s seemingly infinite questions. After returning home, they’d make fire and eat, telling Eliza of the day’s events; listening to her constant rambling about the dangers of cold weather.

And when Isaac finally went to bed, they’d go into her bedroom and make love. It was a routine that was both easy to follow and pleasant, which reminded Arthur that he could have those things if his life had taken a different turn. Sometimes he felt regret. Others, he accepted that he had to share his time between two families. But no matter what, there was always a pang of guilt that his son wasn’t by his side at all times.

When it was time to leave, he convinced himself that the heavy winter would make it impossible to travel. But as he looked at Isaac, he knew deep down that the reason was different. 

“When will you be back, Pa?” Isaac followed his every step as Arthur walked from the house to his horse, packing his things up.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he answered evasively.

He didn’t want to get his son’s hopes up, not only because that’d hurt Isaac, but also because it’d hurt Arthur himself.

“So, soon?” Isaac looked at him hopefully.

Arthur couldn’t help but smile, even though he knew that coming back soon was not an option.

“Leave your father be,” Eliza walked out of the house with eatables in her hands. “He always comes back, doesn’t he?” She gave Arthur the food. “Now, say goodbye”.

While Isaac was usually looking for physical contact with his father, this time he hesitated. Arthur extended his hand with a small smile and Isaac took it, even though his expression was sad. Arthur lifted him up, hugging him to his chest.

“Be good to your mother,” he caressed the top of his head, “you need to look after her when I’m gone”.

Isaac nodded his head, but there were tears welling in his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered and Arthur's throat tightened.

He wished he could say it back =– wished that he could convey how he felt to his only child. But as he tried, the words wouldn’t come out. He didn’t know whether it was deeply ingrained fear of ridicule for expressing his feeling freely, but all he could do was hug Isaac tighter before letting go.

~

When he arrived in camp, he knew something was wrong. There wasn’t one thing out of place, but the atmosphere was heavy with something unpleasant. As he walked into Dutch’s tent, everything became clear. He was lying on the cot with a frown on his face and leg wrapped in a cotton rag.

“The prodigal son returns,” he announced as he noticed Arthur.

“Are you all right? What happened?”

Dutch seized him up and down.

“Something that wouldn’t have if you were here,” his tone was bitter as he spoke.

“Come on, Dutch,” Arthur was not in the mood to play games, especially as guilt settled in his stomach. “And where are John and Hosea?”

Dutch huffed.

“A robbery. I got this,” he pointed to his leg, “as the only thing we walked away with”. He reached for a cup -- filled with whisky, Arthur was sure -- and took a few slow sips. “We’re wanted all over the county. To top it all off, we sent John hunting because we’ve got to feed ourselves. He hasn’t returned in two days, so Hosea went after him”.

Arthur sighed as he sat down by the cot.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, but Dutch wouldn’t have it.

“Need I remind you that this gang is your family too? You’ve been gone for what? Nearly all winter? _We_ need you, son. It’s high time you understood that”.

“I have a goddamn son,” Arthur snapped, out of guilt or protectiveness, he couldn’t tell. “_You_ need to understand that”. Dutch looked at him with a slight surprise in his eyes. They were silent for a few minutes. “I’m sorry, Dutch,” Arthur said finally. “It’s you and the gang, and then my kid. I’m doing the best I can”.

“No, I’m sorry,” Dutch was looking in the distance. “Maybe I’m expecting too much. Maybe you should be with your _true_ family”.

Arthur shook his head, a feeling of shame arising within. Dutch saved him. Raised him. Taught him everything Arthur needed to know.

“You’re all my family,” he said, “you know damn well I’d never leave you behind”.

Dutch took another slow sip before speaking.

“I’d never rob you of being a father, Arthur”.

“I know,” he answered silently.

“It'll all get easier once he grows up," Dutch said. "He doesn’t understand now, but when he’s a man himself, he will know that you did it to help him. To secure his future away from,” Dutch waived in the direction of the empty camp, “all this”.

“I can only hope,” Arthur said, but he wasn’t sure if he believed that’s what the future held.

~

Heavy with guilt, Arthur did his best to fix the situation in the camp. It was a slow process, but with time, all was as if he’d never left. Soon, he fell into a routine, only that instead of bettering someone’s situation, as was the case at home, he made it worse for countless people. 

It was as if he was split between two completely different lives; playing two contrasting parts.

Those thoughts accompanied him anytime he left the camp to play out one of Dutch’s plans. Anytime it worked, Dutch would tell him that the money is for his son. And Arthur believed him.

All those things he did –- things that he would never ponder on because he was afraid of his own morality –- were for Isaac. Arthur didn’t want to think of the implications. 

It was nagging him as he and John sat sprawled in front of the fire.

“Do you miss them?” John looked at him while rolling a cigarette.

“I do,” Arthur answered simply.

“How does that feel?”

Arthur didn’t know how to answer that. He guessed he never really thought about how he felt.

“I don’t know,” he deflected, “how does anything feel?”

“Relax,” John said, lighting his cigarette. “I was just thinking”.

Arthur shook his head with a small laugh.

“Well, that doesn’t happen often”.

John seized him before hanging his hand and smiling.

“Have you ever thought of leaving?” He asked while playing with his bottle.

“Leaving what? The gang?”

John nodded his head before taking a sip. Arthur sat quiet for a few seconds.

“I guess I did,” he said, “but I can’t leave Dutch and Hosea behind”. He lit a cigarette. “And anyway, we’re all outlaws. Isaac and Eliza are better off like this”.

His voice was firm, but Arthur wasn’t sure of his own words. He wondered if there was something he could have done before –- something that’d change how his life looked at that moment.

But as he focused on the thought, it only made him feel guilty. He looked at John and then at his bottle, finally taking a long, burning sip in hopes of silencing his own consciousness.

~

It was months later that he made the trip back to his family. He’d hoped to visit earlier, but Dutch had one more grand plan. That particular time, however, it worked as well as they had planned.

Arthur could mope about the fact that his journey moved in time, but as he rode to his family with a satchel full of money, he believed that it was worth it. 

On his way through the forest, he thought of all the things he and Isaac could do. The weather was pleasant, so he could take him fishing, or, if his son proved brave enough - hunting. They could walk around the fields and pick up herbs -– Arthur was sure that Eliza would happily join in. Maybe he could take them camping for one night.

There were many possibilities that ran through his head during the journey, but they all boiled down to his longing for them. And as he saw the cottage in the distance, he couldn’t help, but smile.

But as he came closer, an odd feeling settled in his stomach. He didn't know _what_ it was, but he knew it wasn't good. A few more steps and he could see that the door and windows were closed, but there was nothing else raising his suspicion.

It was only when he got off his horse when he saw them.

Off the side of the porch were two crosses –- the same size, as far as he could tell, but towering over two different mounds. At first, he didn’t realize what he was seeing. He blinked a few times, maybe hoping that once he opened his eyes there’d be gone, but nothing of that sort happened.

His mind was blank as he approached them. Slowly, carefully, as not to tip off the balance of something he couldn’t name. They were fresh, a week old at most, and as he kneeled in front of the smaller one, his heart stopped in his chest.

It started beating again in an unsteady rhythm when he stood up. And then, as if led by pure instinct, he ran up the steps of the porch, tripping over his own legs as he kicked the door open. Despite the two graves outside, he hoped they’d both be there.

But it was empty -- lifeless, the feeling only intensified as he took a few steps in. His eyes darted from the fireplace to the kitchen counters, finally settling on the floor. _Stains_.

Something turned in his stomach as he thought of blood that could never be washed away. It was then when the reality of the situation hit him.

He walked back out, nausea rising in his throat until he was bent over the porch railing, vomiting violently. When that was done, he walked down the stairs, slowly sitting on the last step. And then, he cried.

For the first time in his adult life, Arthur couldn’t hold his feelings back. As he covered the eyes with his hands, he thought back to when he last saw them.

It was just outside the house as he said his goodbyes, holding Isaac in his arms. He tried to recall his face -- all the little details that made his son the boy he was -- and he couldn’t remember. He wasn’t sure anymore how his eyes looked. Or hair. He wasn’t sure if he had a missing tooth at the time, or if Arthur just imagined that. Panic started to rise in his chest as he tried to _remember_.

The crushing realization hit him that normal fathers knew all those things. They remembered them because they were always around.

And then, Arthur thought of how Isaac and Eliza died. They must have been robbed; he saw no other explanation for the bloodstains. He recalled the last thing he said to Isaac, which only made the tears flow harder.

Did he try to protect his mother as Arthur told him to? Did he put his life on the line, completely unaware of the danger, because that’s what his father wanted?

There was no point in guessing, Arthur realized because the only thing of importance was that Arthur wasn’t around the time when it mattered.

The gang, the money -- it all meant nothing. It meant nothing at all and Arthur still chose it over the lives of Isaac and Eliza.

He didn’t know how much time had passed as he sat there. All he knew was that at one point, there were no tears left to cry, and he had to move.

Arthur looked at the closed door and decided against going in. He couldn’t stomach it – not yet.

He knew he had to get away, spend some time in seclusion to come to terms with the things that had happened.

Before he left, he picked some flowers, the one that Eliza liked to bring back into the house. He put one on her grave and another on Isaac’s. His hand ghosted over the mound and he remembered how afraid he was to say how he felt about him.

It was cowardice. Foolishness.

Arthur slowly placed one hand on the cold sand, the other curled tightly on his leg.

“I love you too,” he said quietly. 

He thought it would make him feel better, as if the dead could hear him speak. But like other things in his life, this one was also coming too late. It mattered none to the two bodies lying six feet under. 


End file.
